Confessions of a Chronic Cuddler

When reflecting on what makes me the happiest, I am still trying to figure out if it’s, “normal” that what first comes to mind is cuddling and breakfast foods; specifically pancakes (you know with the crispy edges and the middle that’s cooked just until it’s brown), stove top grits, maple wood bacon, and cheesy-scrambled eggs.

Sure, the feeling of descent on an airplane, acquiring new skills, watching the water dance around my feet in the ocean, blogging in bed on Sunday mornings, and shopping are all up there was well, but more than anything I love and crave, intimacy.

The further I get into my 20’s, the more I see intimacy lacking within both romantic and platonic relationships. The absence of consensual and nonsexual touch, conversations that carry into early hours of the morning, and the ability to be entirely transparent with another being.

By definition intimacy is (a) close familiarity or friendship; closeness, (b) a private cozy atmosphere, or (c) an intimate act, especially sexual intercourse.

With that definition in mind, along with my aforementioned statements, I have formed my own rhyme and reason of intimacy, which can ultimately be summed up as inner peace. I don’t believe that you can be intimate with another without being confident, transparent, and able to enjoy others without expectation.

Intimacy is about digging deep; making genuine connections and memories.

I find much about our culture to be extremely hypocritical (and toxic) in relation to intimacy; we “swipe left” and reduce potential partners to their physical attributes, hop in bed with and lust over strangers, and somehow expect love from individuals who don’t even love themselves.

It’s pretty scary because so many of us are behaving and seeking the exact opposite of what we really want. While I am not sure if it can be proven, I do know that I have never met a soul who didn’t want to be loved, or at least appreciated in some fashion. We all want to feel valuable, and that’s why intimate relationships are so important, because in those spaces we can have our feelings, beliefs, wants, dreams, and more validated.

When’s the last time you told someone about your dreams and felt that they really believed or supported you?

When’s the last time you didn’t question whether someone meant “I love you”, I am here for you” or “I care about you”?

When’s the last time you felt comfortable enough to be yourself, like your true self, in front of someone else?

When’s the last time you knew a relationship was based entirely on companionship and not what they could get or benefit from you?

When’s the last time you didn’t have to question someone’s intentions?

These are just some questions I consider when reflecting on relationships in my life, and probably why I don’t have a great deal of people who I can be intimate with. I can’t confidently answer these questions with everybody. *inserts shrugging emoji*

Most relationships are surface level, or set up where someone benefits from another’s presence. Is this inherently a bad thing? No, hell it’s life, but it is unrealistic to expect everyone to able to understand, appreciate, and be intimate with you.

Intimacy, in other words, is something you can’t get from just anyone. I had to learn this and stop trying to force intimacy in spaces where it just wasn’t going to thrive. Like I said, intimacy is about inner peace, and everyone isn’t there yet. Nor do they have matching definitions of intimacy. For me, intimacy isn’t about sex, or even good sex with music, rose petals, and Bath and Body Works candles. Yet, that may be what intimacy is for someone else, and that’s okay.

A few years ago I learned that one of my “Love Languages” was physical touch. (Find out your Love Languages here.) This came as a surprise to me, because I never considered myself to be one of those touchy-feely type of people, but as I further explored what intimacy meant to me, I found that I loved cuddling, a form of physical touch.

I loved being able to watch someone’s chest rise and fall with each breath, being close enough to hear their heart beat through their shirt, and how time seemed to melt away intertwined in someone’s arms. This feeling of closeness is euphoric to me, hence the title of this blog post.

Oh, and as far as the “confession” piece of this post goes, well, I am truly fearful that I won’t find people I can be intimate with. I fear living in a time where love is seemingly replaced with lust, and happily ever after is only for a select few. I am terrified of being alone, and having to forever do it on my own. I fear not being able to heal. I fear allowing someone in again, to only get hurt. I don’t want to have to always have my guard up.